Page 33 of The Devil She Knows
Playing to win wasn’t always the same thing as playing not to lose.
“Not a big fan of chocolate cake?”
Sam jumped, catching the edge of the butcher block with her hip and knocking the sheet pan halfway across the counter.
Hannah stood in front of the stove, in the aisle that ran down the center of what was effectively a galley kitchen. LikeSam, she wore the standard-issue chef’s uniform, a white double-breasted jacket and black pleated pants with an apron tied at her waist. No surprise that Hannah wore the look well; Hannah wore everything well.
“Sorry.” Hannah smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”
“No! No, don’t—don’t apologize,” she quickly reassured her. Hannah was welcome to sneak up on her if it meant she was talking to Sam. That she was giving Sam an opening. Bruise on her hip be damned, Sam wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “You’re fine.”
Hannah nodded at the sheet pan. “You were glaring at the cake pretty hard.”
“I was just … thinking. About what I’m going to make.”
Better to let Hannah believe she was thinking about cake than tell her what was actually on her mind.
Actually, Hannah, you don’t know me, or remember me, but in an alternate universe—or maybe the primary one? I’m not super clear on how this all works, if it’s multiverses or—The point is, we dated, and after you broke up with me, I made a last-ditch deal with a demon to get you back. I figured, if I were a wealthy and successful and competent chef, I’d make for a more attractive partner, and you’d have no reason to end our relationship. Only, apparently, we have no relationship here. Do you maybe want to change that? I’ll even let you win this dumb competition. Just pretty please give me a chance and I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life doing everything in my power to make you the happiest woman on this planet, myself not included because sharing air with you is enough to make me incandescent.
“I bet you have something impressive planned for this round, don’t you? Your pièce de résistance?”
“Not really. I—I hadn’t decided yet.” Sam glanced over her shoulder at the frosted sheet cake and frowned. “Maybe I’ll make cake pops.”
“Cake pops?” Hannah goggled at her. “I’m sorry,theChef Samantha Cooper, responsible for earning Glut its three Michelin stars, is going to serve the judgescake pops?”
Sam frowned. She loved cake pops. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing! They’re just a little … basic for someone of your culinary caliber.” Hannah cocked her hip against the counter and dragged her finger through the frosting along the side of Sam’s sheet cake. “Don’t you think?”
Hannah popped her finger in her mouth and sucked off the frosting, giving Sam a look that shot straight to her core.
“A chef of my caliber,” Sam echoed dumbly, staring at the tiny smudge of chocolate at the corner of Hannah’s mouth just beside her beauty mark, thinking about how easy it would be to lean in and capture Hannah’s plush bottom lip with hers. Lick that frosting right off. “You, uh, you make me sound like I’m some kind of big deal or something.”
Her laughter petered out quickly when Hannah didn’t join in. Rather, she studied Sam for a moment, her gray eyes searching Sam’s face. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or if you’re just being humble, which is—no offense—kind of dumb. You’re the best of the best.”
Sam ducked her head. “That’s awfully kind of you, but—”
“Don’tthink that’s me flattering you,” Hannah said. “It’s just a fact. Everyone knows it.”
Sam stared at her, at a loss, unsure of what to say. Hearing those words come out of Hannah’s mouth when only hours ago she had scolded Sam for squandering all her supposed potential was a bit of a mindfuck, and it was going to take her more than a second to get used to it.
She stood a little taller. “Even the best of the best happens to enjoy a good cake pop every now and again.”
Basic didn’t always equal bad. Maybe it wasn’t fine dining, but sometimes basic hit the spot, just like when, on occasion, Sam got a craving so strong for an RC Cola and a banana Moon Pie that not even the butteriest of croissants and fanciest of craft sodas could satisfy.
“Hm.” Hannah narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re not trying to take iteasyon me, are you? Because you shouldn’t. See, I’m not afraid of a challenge. After all, thatiswhy I’m here.”
That was exactly what Sam had been planning on doing.
“No. Of course not. Don’t be silly.”
“Mm-hmm.Sure, Chef Cooper.”
“Sam,” she blurted. “It’s—You can call me Sam.”
Hannah smiled and Sam swore she could hear angels singing. “Sam it is.”
Sam gripped the strings of her apron tightly, fidgeting with the bunny ears of the double-knotted bow. “So what is it you’re making?” Sam asked. “If you don’t mind me asking. I don’t know if that’s against the rules.”
